Jack hasn't taken his gaze off Zevran since he set the ship into orbit. Thankfully, Ted remembered to put in an autopilot function when he built it. He settles near Zevran, almost near enough to touch but not quite, as if he wants to reassure himself, too, that it truly isn't a dream.
"It's not, I think," he replies after a moment or two. "I'm real enough, so's the ship, and I'm reasonably sure you are, too." There's a hint of a grin, and he reaches to cup Zevran's cheek for a second. "See? It's probably just the gravity making you feel a bit off. You'll get used to it." He pauses, glances out the window, then back to Zevran.
"God, it's good to see you --" He trails off, unsure of what exactly to say next. Good to see him alive? Unhurt, at least physically? He settles on 'you', then, and just leaves the sentence to hang, until -- Oh, right, the unhurt bit. That was probably important.
"You're not hurt, are you?" He gestures to the mess of blood and other such things, with a little frown.
Circling the Earth isn't that difficult to do unaided; satellites do it all the time. The only challenge is not slamming into the clutter remaining from said satellites. That would be an embarrassing way to go, after that badass stand against the Bureau's agents
( ... )
"The sort that's not shoddy but has just gotten out of prison," Jack says flatly. He needs to move, needs to do something, so he gets up again and starts pacing, still with an eye on Zevran.
"I know," he replies quietly, finally. "I know it feels like one of their tricks, I had two bloody years of those --" He cuts himself off abruptly. "No. You don't want to hear about that." Jack looks far away for a moment or two, lost in some recent memory he would rather not be thinking about. When he finally returns to the present, slightly troubled; he crouches next to Zevran again, ready to move quickly if he has to.
Zevran wants to just watch him, to ground himself in admiring the sharp purpose with which Jack moves. But it's not enough. He has to keep up the bold front. Just in case...
Just in case what? What more could the Bureau or their agents do to either of them? Two years. It hurts to hear, and suddenly he doesn't want to just look at Jack anymore.
So it's good that Jack gets close again. "I have an idea," Zevran says quietly, and in another lifetime it would have come out sultry and suggestive. In this one it's all rough, almost hoarse, and just plain needy. It's all the warning Jack gets before Zevran grabs him and pulls him forward almost onto his lap and starts kissing him.
There are probably other ways to reassure oneself of reality, but this is the one Zevran knows. And he doesn't care that he still has other people's blood on him.
Jack doesn't care, either -- he is kissing back just as fiercely as Zevran is. He is, for want of a better word, somewhat clinging, desperate to reassure himself that Zevran is still there and this isn't just another fantasy cooked up by his own mind or the Bureau.
"Mmn. Good idea," Jack says when he pulls back for a moment. He takes another moment to just bury his face in between Zevran's neck and his shoulder, and inhale. More proof, just to make sure. Who cared about blood, really, when he had Zevran back and real and, for the most part, safe? He'd had worse things on his skin, undoubtedly. "It is good, to have you back," he says again, quieter. It's the closest he'll get to saying he missed Zevran, the first good thing in a long while.
Zevran is silent for a few moments. Talking seems awfully inconsequential right now. He's never been that good at saying what he means, anyway. It's too easy to get hurt that way, and once you've lived in fear of being hurt for long enough, you forget how to stop being afraid even when you sensibly could. Besides, the last few months have reminded him why he shouldn't stop being afraid.
At least he's no longer afraid that this isn't real. He might be afraid that it won't last, that they'll catch both of them again, but one thing he is good at it is focusing on the present. So he wraps his arms around Jack and holds him a little too tightly. "And have me you do," he finally says, which is as close as he'll come to pledging something more than mere loyalty
( ... )
"I don't want you to work for me," he replies, in between pressing kisses to Zevran's neck. "I just want you." To punctuate that, he adds in a little rough bite. "Don't be ridiculous, I would never regret rescuing you."
He wraps his arms around Zevran as well, just looking, as if he'd never grow tired of it. He probably wouldn't. Even when he's covered in blood, Zevran is still the best thing he's seen in a very long time.
"Of course we'll strike back," he adds, once he's done drinking in the sight of the elf. There's a thin, sharp smile on his face now, a not entirely sane one. "They took you from me, they took two years of my life. They deserve everything they're going to get."
He shudders again, more pleasantly this time. But it's not at the touches, as enjoyable as those are (and as welcomed; it's been far too long). It's the words that move him. Some part of him knew well enough to expect them--he's not stupid, after all--but it's still amazing to hear. That he's wanted, that Jack even cared that they were separated. It's funny, really, how childish the satisfaction that fills him is: he's not asking anything more but to be needed. It's exactly enough
( ... )
He closes his eyes at Zevran's touch, unintentionally nuzzling a bit closer. "I don't know," he says. It is honest, a little too much so for one who has been on the run for so long. "I thought of so many things, all the things I would do to you; when I could, but I honestly don't know, right now."
But he knows one thing. He won't let go anytime soon, and he won't stop with the kissing, either. He's missed this, this feeling, touching, caring about someone. Because he does. He truly does, even if he'll never say it out loud. He doesn't believe in 'couples', not really, but it definitely applies to this situation. He needs Zevran as much as Zevran needs to be needed.
"I do know, however, that I don't want to move," he adds, opening his eyes and giving Zevran a lazy grin. "Unless it's perhaps to another position on the floor, or something." There's another kiss. "The ship'll be fine, I just ...don't want to stop this."
Zevran didn't think he believed in couples, in being together, in love being something that he could ever have. He gave up on it first when he accepted his training, second when his initial flickerings of feelings ended so badly back in the Crows, and third when the Warden chose Alistair over him. He was ready to give up on it here, too, after the Bureau had been after him long enough. Right now, though, he's ready to take it all back. He'll never speak the words, but Jack doesn't care about that, so he doesn't either
( ... )
"I don't think we could ever forget that," Jack agrees, with a pleased noise. He's far too content, just now, to care about any bruises, and there's still too much adrenaline running through his body to think about anything except the man in front of him.
It is hard to describe the million ways he wants Zevran, too; but mostly it's just Zevran he wants. Zevran pressed up close and kissing him, actually there, just like this. He starts tugging at clothing, deciding that needs to be out of the way before they continue with anything else.
As soon as Jack starts reaching for clothes, Zevran is too. He's a little more awkward than usual, than Jack might remember--not because he's flustered, but because he can't decide what to take off first. Surely getting rid of his bloodied prisoner garb should be the priority, and he starts off with that, but he keeps being distracted by Jack's warmth so nearby, by slightly hazy memories that he wants to sharpen up again. And so soon enough his fingers are carelessly snapping buttons and zippers aside regardless of who they belong too, his mouth seeking out newly exposed skin
( ... )
"Good." Jack pulls him a little closer at the nuzzles, absently strokes his hair. There is silence for a moment, and then he shifts to grin at Zevran, that same hunger present in his voice. "It is," he nods, and leans to give him a very thorough kiss.
"It's almost nice enough to make me rethink my plans for later," he adds, but he's smirking. "Then I remembered how nice that is, too, and it's been --" He trails off. It is difficult to do what Jack likes to do in his spare time when one is practically being hunted. "It's been -- a very long time," he finishes, and punctuates that with another kiss, somewhere in between tender and hungry. "And I do enjoy the view."
Zevran leans into the kiss without hesitation, lifting his other hand from Jack's pants for long enough to wrap both arms around him. At that smirk, a pleased look starts to flash over his own face, because somehow, Jack Harkness can make even that expression look sexy.
What follows is enough to still his grin. He can't think of what to say, for a moment: too many thoughts and desires swirling in his mind and his body. The kiss solves that for the moment and sharpens his thoughts. When it's over, he says quietly, "You need not be alone any longer. I will follow you where you go." He glances away for a moment, trying to find words, and his gaze lights on the window. "To the stars, if you ask it of me, or simply across the world."
And perhaps he'll be a little glad, selfishly, to have Jack be his that way. But he tries not to think on that. Instead, he buries his face beneath Jack's chin and kisses his throat hard enough to leave marks. One thing he doesn't mind having forgotten is moderation.
"It's not, I think," he replies after a moment or two. "I'm real enough, so's the ship, and I'm reasonably sure you are, too." There's a hint of a grin, and he reaches to cup Zevran's cheek for a second. "See? It's probably just the gravity making you feel a bit off. You'll get used to it." He pauses, glances out the window, then back to Zevran.
"God, it's good to see you --" He trails off, unsure of what exactly to say next. Good to see him alive? Unhurt, at least physically? He settles on 'you', then, and just leaves the sentence to hang, until -- Oh, right, the unhurt bit. That was probably important.
"You're not hurt, are you?" He gestures to the mess of blood and other such things, with a little frown.
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"I know," he replies quietly, finally. "I know it feels like one of their tricks, I had two bloody years of those --" He cuts himself off abruptly. "No. You don't want to hear about that." Jack looks far away for a moment or two, lost in some recent memory he would rather not be thinking about. When he finally returns to the present, slightly troubled; he crouches next to Zevran again, ready to move quickly if he has to.
"Okay, how can I convince you?"
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Just in case what? What more could the Bureau or their agents do to either of them? Two years. It hurts to hear, and suddenly he doesn't want to just look at Jack anymore.
So it's good that Jack gets close again. "I have an idea," Zevran says quietly, and in another lifetime it would have come out sultry and suggestive. In this one it's all rough, almost hoarse, and just plain needy. It's all the warning Jack gets before Zevran grabs him and pulls him forward almost onto his lap and starts kissing him.
There are probably other ways to reassure oneself of reality, but this is the one Zevran knows. And he doesn't care that he still has other people's blood on him.
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"Mmn. Good idea," Jack says when he pulls back for a moment. He takes another moment to just bury his face in between Zevran's neck and his shoulder, and inhale. More proof, just to make sure. Who cared about blood, really, when he had Zevran back and real and, for the most part, safe? He'd had worse things on his skin, undoubtedly. "It is good, to have you back," he says again, quieter. It's the closest he'll get to saying he missed Zevran, the first good thing in a long while.
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At least he's no longer afraid that this isn't real. He might be afraid that it won't last, that they'll catch both of them again, but one thing he is good at it is focusing on the present. So he wraps his arms around Jack and holds him a little too tightly. "And have me you do," he finally says, which is as close as he'll come to pledging something more than mere loyalty ( ... )
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He wraps his arms around Zevran as well, just looking, as if he'd never grow tired of it. He probably wouldn't. Even when he's covered in blood, Zevran is still the best thing he's seen in a very long time.
"Of course we'll strike back," he adds, once he's done drinking in the sight of the elf. There's a thin, sharp smile on his face now, a not entirely sane one. "They took you from me, they took two years of my life. They deserve everything they're going to get."
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But he knows one thing. He won't let go anytime soon, and he won't stop with the kissing, either. He's missed this, this feeling, touching, caring about someone. Because he does. He truly does, even if he'll never say it out loud. He doesn't believe in 'couples', not really, but it definitely applies to this situation. He needs Zevran as much as Zevran needs to be needed.
"I do know, however, that I don't want to move," he adds, opening his eyes and giving Zevran a lazy grin. "Unless it's perhaps to another position on the floor, or something." There's another kiss. "The ship'll be fine, I just ...don't want to stop this."
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It is hard to describe the million ways he wants Zevran, too; but mostly it's just Zevran he wants. Zevran pressed up close and kissing him, actually there, just like this. He starts tugging at clothing, deciding that needs to be out of the way before they continue with anything else.
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"It's almost nice enough to make me rethink my plans for later," he adds, but he's smirking. "Then I remembered how nice that is, too, and it's been --" He trails off. It is difficult to do what Jack likes to do in his spare time when one is practically being hunted. "It's been -- a very long time," he finishes, and punctuates that with another kiss, somewhere in between tender and hungry. "And I do enjoy the view."
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What follows is enough to still his grin. He can't think of what to say, for a moment: too many thoughts and desires swirling in his mind and his body. The kiss solves that for the moment and sharpens his thoughts. When it's over, he says quietly, "You need not be alone any longer. I will follow you where you go." He glances away for a moment, trying to find words, and his gaze lights on the window. "To the stars, if you ask it of me, or simply across the world."
And perhaps he'll be a little glad, selfishly, to have Jack be his that way. But he tries not to think on that. Instead, he buries his face beneath Jack's chin and kisses his throat hard enough to leave marks. One thing he doesn't mind having forgotten is moderation.
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